CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX
I poked through the antiques with trembling fingers. It was worth it, though. That was what I kept telling myself. The man who had led those women to their deaths would be caught tonight.
The waist level shelf beside me didn’t look interesting, so I moved to the next one. I picked up a paper book and sniffed at it. Clean and fresh, not mildew and fire. It was tossed quickly back onto the littered table. How this business owner passed these items off as antiques was a miracle. One candleholder still had a price tag on it from a nearby city.
I lifted a dainty, elegant hairbrush. It looked familiar—too familiar. I turned it over and found the nameOdetteon the handle.
It was my mother’s hairbrush. An item her maid had stolen if I remembered correctly.
“Fucking thieves,” I muttered under my breath. I pushed the handle of the hairbrush into my back pocket. I would be returning it to Mother as soon as I saw her next.
My attention returned to the table with true interest this time. I shoved items aside and searched for anything else belonging to my mother. I found the table one row over.
A pair of earrings went into my front right pocket.
A silver necklace with my fucking picture inside it went into my left pocket.
And the hat I hated the most out of my mother’s collection went on top of my head, the purple sparkle of it hideous.
“Hello there, Ms. Kramer.”
I jerked upright from my search and glanced over my shoulder to stare behind me. My nostrils flared as I turned around slowly.
A man in a black mask stood behind me.
Same voice, same mask. Same cold eyes.
Mr. Valentine had arrived.
I muttered, “Get the hell away from me.”
Finn and Godric had stated I needed to play a part once Mr. Valentine arrived. I couldn’t act as if I wanted him to stay.
“Don’t do anything rash. If you come along peacefully like last time, I won’t hurt you,” he stated calmly.
I crossed my arms. “I’ll scream.”
“And no one will hear you. It looks like the owner of this fine establishment has stepped out.” He waved a hand around the store. “Or hadn’t you noticed it was empty?”
I glanced toward the owner’s office, acting afraid. “He’s here somewhere.”
“I already checked. He’s gone.” Mr. Valentine walked toward me, and I started walking backward from him. “Don’t do that. It will only prolong this.”
I sneered. “Sorry to make your job that much harder.”
But I froze when the man jumped into the air.
As in, he soared like a shifter.
Mr. Valentine was supposed to be human.
Or so the digital trail had said.
I grabbed a golf club off the shelf and pointed it like a sword where he landed in a crouch.
I growled, “Who the fuck are you?”
“Who do you think I am?” Mr. Valentine lifted and stood straight.
